Battle Between Bachelors
by TheNovelArtist
Summary: It's the first ball of her first season, and it's not at all what she had thought it would be. However, she couldn't say the night was a complete failure. Not with the two intriguing men she had the fortune to meet.


A/N: Inspired by a work done by the wonderful Ceejles on tumblr who did a _fantastic_ piece of Adrien, Marinette, and Luka all dressed in regency costume.

* * *

It was hot, and the layers upon layers of fabric that draped from her waist only made the heat more miserable. Her fan flailed wildly, blowing hot air at her face and neck as she struggled to catch her breath from her corset being just a touch too tight. She was of age, barely, and her first season was now upon her. She had been told because of her semi-exotic look that came from her mother, she was certain to catch the eye of a man. But then again, there were many girls just as beautiful who had been out for serval seasons yet still hadn't managed to catch a husband.

The house was large and overcrowded. The first ball of the season, and it had to be a masquerade. Despite so many people wanting attention, everyone's face was covered. Too many men were dressed in the same black and white tuxedo, each donning a domino mask. Each the same, and all seeking attention from her. She was quite a sight in her red dress that squeezed what little assets she had into something that looked fuller while her skirt could take up half the ballroom. Of course, she was getting attention. Her grandmother had made certain of it.

"My, you seem to be the belle of the ball this evening."

Marinette turned to yet another young man. He, however, had a blue mask to go with the blue of his suit. She placed on a smile she'd been practicing for ages now. "Quite."

He smiled. "That is the answer of a woman overwhelmed by her first season."

Her eyes widened and her smile vanished. He grinned, one that was sympathetic and kind. "Worry not. It is completely understandable. If you wish for a bit of reprieve, I'll happily stand by you and pretend to conserve. You must be exhausted from all the fronts and shallow pleasantry."

Her fan was slowing, and she felt a blush on her cheeks. "I thank you."

He smiled. "I'm not here to woo you," he said, and somehow, she believed him. "I am here to shadow my sister. This will be her second season. Staying true to the essence of the masquerade, I'll simply say she's over there in the purple gown."

Marinette looked across the way to see the woman he was referring to. Her hair was dark, interwoven with feathers that matched the white highlights of her purple gown.

"She's lovely," Marinette commented, the fact that purple was uncommon and very costly not being lost on her. Whoever she was conversing with clearly had ample funds.

"I believe so. But I am partial, since I am her brother," he teased.

Marinette giggled. "My best regards to her during the season."

The man hummed. "Thank you. I wish her the best of luck, as well. But once again, as her brother, I want nothing more than to see her happily settled. It's the only reason I am here for the season."

His words surprised her. "You are not looking for a wife?"

He shook his head. "No. I say this modestly when I say I understand that I'm quite the catch. However, the façades of the women I'm bombarded with during these seasons only serves to disappoint. I tired of their acts after a single season."

Guilt started to accumulate in her gut, settling heavily in her stomach. "I'm sorry, would you prefer I leave you alone?"

He instantly shook his head. "No. You are no bother."

Still, she bowed her head in embarrassment. "Should you change your mind, I'll understand."

"My lady, please look at me."

She turned to face him.

"I assure you, you are no bother," he repeated. "I see very clearly that you are overwhelmed and uncomfortable gathering so much attention. I've seen enough women acting to know what is an act and what is not. And you have given me no reason to believe you are acting. Therefore, I find your company for the evening a pleasant change to the usual."

Her smile was shy. "Thank you. That's quite kind."

"Brother." The woman in the purple gown came up beside him. "I'm finished for the evening."

"No man catches your fancy?" he teased.

She bowed her head shyly behind her lacy fan. "One possibly does, but he was rather shy."

Though his mask covered his face, his surprise was clear. "Oh?"

"And he may have left early."

He chuckled. "Fair enough. We will head for home. Mother will be pleased for us to be home early." He then turned to Marinette. "I beg your pardon, but I'm afraid I must be off for the evening."

"I understand," she assured. "Thank you for your company."

He smiled. "Maybe our paths will cross again." With that, he turned to take his leave.

Marinette watched him disappear and suddenly felt the presence of another man at her side.

"I haven't had the chance to say hello to you tonight," he said. "You are quite the popular one."

She smiled. Yet another domino mask. Yet another man who simply wanted her attention. She was feeling suffocated. "Forgive me," she said, "But I see someone I've been meaning to talk with."

She hurried off into the throng of people, slipping away from his sight and out the door to the gardens. The cool night was a wonderful contrast to the stuffiness of the ballroom. Slowly, she wandered out towards the white marble bridge that led over the rushing river to the furthest gardens where she could hide away. She sniffed before the first tear could fall. To think she'd been excited for this. It was far more overwhelming than she'd thought it would be.

Her legs were shaking, and it was growing hard to breathe again. Her corset felt like it was tightening around her chest, and a wave of dizziness was coming over her. The marble railing was just at the right level to sit, otherwise she was afraid she wouldn't make it over the bridge. She turned to sit on the railing, expecting to stay there a good length of time. She didn't expect the _crack_ that resulted nor the suddenness of cold river water that she landed into.

She struggled to swim against the current, but her legs were trapped within the layers upon layers of fabric. Her heart was pounding. She was going to drown.

Something grabbed her waist, and suddenly she was going up, up, up until she burst through the surface and took a large gasp of air. She sputtered. She flailed. She grabbed onto whatever was keeping her above the surface and clung tight.

Soon, she felt herself land on dry ground, and she was quick to scramble towards it while heaving and coughing up all the water that had seeped into her lungs. Slowly, her breathing regulated and her mind started to recognize that something was holding her up by the waist.

"You are one lucky ladybug," a voice by her side said. "The river is unusually high, and in your dress, I'm surprised you didn't get swept away in a heartbeat."

She looked up towards the voice, only to see a man as equally as soaked as she. Yet, somehow, his mask still remained on his face.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded, unable to say a word.

He smiled. "I'm glad."

They stayed like that a moment longer, Marinette catching her breath.

"You are Marinette Dupain, are you not?"

In that moment, she realized her mask was long gone. She nodded. "I am."

"It is an honor to make your acquaintance."

"I cannot be an acquaintance when I do not know your name," she easily countered, falling back on all the lessons she'd been taught on the concept of flirting.

His smile grew, and she absently wondered if his eyes, whatever color they were, would light up with it or not. "Let's just say my name is Chat Noir."

As she looked him over, she realized it was an appropriate name. The mask he wore had sharper eye cut-outs than most, giving an almost cattish appearance, and then the two little sections on the top that stuck up like cat ears completed the look. "Then it is a pleasure to meet you," she said.

His smile grew as he took her hand and kissed it. "The pleasure is mine. Though I would have been perfectly happy for our first meeting to not be in the river."

She felt her cheeks warm despite the cool water that dripped from her hair down her face.

"I think," he said, "your night has been eventful enough. Maybe it would be for the best for you to return home."

Marinette couldn't agree more.

"Are you here with anyone? Your father? A beau?"

"My father," she said. "Only him."

"Then let's go."

He helped her stand then assisted her walking back to the house. He led her around the back of the mansion to the servant's quarters where a handful of women immediately gasped upon seeing her.

"Ladies," he addressed. "Please watch after Lady Marinette. She had quite an unfortunate tumble into the river when the bridge crumbled out from under her."

She marveled at his ease of his words, giving both a simple explanation while also expressing sympathy.

He led her over to a chair. "Here. This seat should be a bit sturdier."

His teasing grin caused her cheeks to warm, but she still took the seat.

He knelt down before her. "I'll go find your father and bring him down here. Then he can take you home, all right?"

"Thank you," she whispered.

His smile was bright. After he stood, he took her hands in his and bowed over them. "My pleasure, my lady."

With that, he disappeared.

One of the maids offered her a dress to wear so she could shed her waterlogged skirts. Another brought over a towel to dry her off before she dressed in the simple gown. Only then did Marinette realize how heavy her waterlogged skirts were.

When her father saw her, he was less then pleased. He was quick to lead her away from the party and back home.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concern pouring out in his tone. "The man who found me said he watched the bridge you were walking on fall apart. The Bourgeois are far more reputable than this. Had I known they let their house fall into such a state of disrepair that my only daughter could have drowned from their negligence, I certainly would have boycotted the entire evening."

Her immediate thought was how she wished the evening could have been boycotted. The night had been stressful even before the unfortunate mishap. However, upon remembering the two men she'd met, she wasn't certain she could call the entire night a failure. In fact, she might just believe the opposite. Maybe, just maybe, she would only be out a single season.

* * *

"You have no shortage of notes," her father commented.

Reluctantly, she took them, knowing that she was raised to be polite and therefore would read all of them and respond to the ones that required a response.

She weeded out those that wished to see her again, then placed those that required some sort of response in another pile. Then she came to a letter that surprised her.

 _I heard about your unfortunate accident,_ it said. _And I am terribly sorry that your first season had to have started with such an event. However, I am relieved to hear you are all right and well. I wish you far better nights than that one, and may your next gathering for the season redeem any poor thoughts or uncertainty you hold regarding your first season. And if not, then I would gladly keep you company until your thoughts changed. I look forward to when our paths cross again._

 _Sincerely, Luka Couffaine, Duke of Médiator_

She nearly fell out of her chair. The way he referenced her first season… he had to be the man in the blue mask.

She had to hold the letter to her chest as she collected herself and begged her heart to slow. The most elusive bachelor in all of Paris, one infamous for turning down many a lady, had written to her. And he wished to see her again.

To say the least, she was positively flattered.

With care, she placed his letter aside, intending on giving far more thought into his response than any of the others.

She weeded through the letters until she got to the last one. And once again, the words took her by surprise.

 _I hope you are well after your misfortunate meeting with the river. Don't you know Ladybugs are supposed to fly? I have yet to hear of one swimming._

 _Truly, I do wish you are well, that sickness stays far from you, and that no more misfortune will fall upon you. I wish the rest of your season is eventful only from the standpoint of garnering the attention you deserve, and not from disaster or tragedy. And lastly, I wish to meet you again, and this time, give you a proper name to call me by. At a masquerade, acquaintances are allowed to have stage names, but in real life, they are not._

 _Sincerely, Adrien Agreste, Earl of Camembert_

She had to steady herself, her head suddenly growing light. There was no doubt he was the man who rescued her from the river. Chat Noir.

Who was Adrien Agreste.

Easily known as the most eligible of bachelors, one who was rumored to be searching diligently for a wife. Never mind his title or estate, it was his looks and charm that caught the attention of many women.

And he seemed to be giving his attention to her.

She placed Adrien's letter to the side, where Luka's letter was. She stared at them for the longest time, slowly coming to the realization that not only had the two most sought-after bachelors in the entirety of Paris sent her letters wishing her well, but both had also expressed interest in seeing her again.

She placed a hand over her pounding heart. Heaven have mercy; this season would be very interesting indeed.


End file.
